Shadow Android Collection
by Ceciliavonjoy
Summary: Remember the colorful Shadow androids from the Shadow Game multiplayer? Ever wonder what happened to them after the game ended? Even if you don't, this set of oneshots will show you! Comes with free personality headcanons!
1. First Meeting

Yellow stopped and turned to glance back at the black hedgehog walking past. Wasn't that Feather?

No. Just a glance at the stranger's clenched hands confirmed it. No rings. And Feather had dents in his quills; he'd yelled at Green yesterday for pointing it out. The quills of the stranger's shell were pristine, and even swayed in the breeze somehow. A dull green scarf too plain for Feather hung around his neck.

Oh. It must be cold. Green won't like that. No snow yet, though. Orange would be happy once there was some. At least, Yellow thought so. He couldn't tell if all the time Orange put into creating tiny snowmen meant that he was enjoying himself.

The stranger was further away. Yellow shook his head to clear it and focus, then started into a clumsy run. His left leg dragged and kicked, wasn't cooperating. Start working, come on, he had to catch this guy! They could fit another android brother in the hidey-hole. It was crowded, but it was safe.

"Hey, you!" He cried out, stumbling along as fast as he could, "W-Wait!"

The weather nipped at the black hedgehog's nose, ears, fingers. He walked alone, heavy metal shoes falling with muffled clunks onto the sidewalk. Shadow stared ahead, eyes dull, scarcely seeing what was in front of him.

Unbidden images and sound swirled in his head. The sky churning from calm blue into a swirling vortex of scarlet. Monstrous black creatures hailing down upon the helpless humans of Westopolis. A dead, growling voice intoning coldly that Shadow himself was one of those monsters.

So much after that was blank. The moments of clarity pierced only briefly through an impenetrable fog.

What he retained raised more questions than answers.

In one, he woke from dying again- he'd lost count of how many times he'd been shot, crushed, and torn apart- and looked down to a green wound in his side. Green blood matted his fur, and oozed down his leg to the sidewalk. The sight lingered briefly, offering no explanation. Then Doom discovered he was awake again, and…

In another, a voice floated in and out, calling his name, most of the rest garbled. It was a boy's voice. He yelled louder, angry and alarmed, when he didn't get an answer. Shadow ran past him, the scenery blurring. The voice didn't fade; its owner could keep up with him. Shouting what was he doing; those soldiers were on their side.

What was left of his mind screamed to stop. The legs beneath him didn't even falter. Mind and body was no longer his.

And another, the clearest. He realized a rigor mortis grip on a smoking gun, arm rigid in its aim. Singed metal and sweat and smoke and blood attacked his senses. Every muscle was tense, damp. Gunshots and screaming echoed far ahead of him. He'd do something about that, something, once he knew what-

"Don't..." His own voice rasped. Mouth didn't move.

On the ground in front of him lay one of the doctor's copies in a shiny slick of oil. The android grimaced and shuddered. One hand tried to staunch the flow of oil and coolant and god knows what else from a ragged hole through its torso. The robot felt pain.

This one didn't look exactly like him. Yellow streaks. Yellow eyes, staring up at him. Scared. Shadow's arm drew back to his side, the movement remarkably calm. How does a machine feel fear?

"Don't…k-kill me…" The copy begged, tinny and on the verge of crying. It- no, he- groaned in pain, limbs making a jerked, abortive attempt at curling up. Shadow watched and heard the android's gasps catch in his throat.

Say something. Stop him from being so afraid.

"Please don't-…ki…" The word trailed off and the android's eyes closed. Streaked arms like his stopped twitching, and fake inhibitor ringed-wrists and hands fell limp.

Too late.

The gun in his hand clattered to the ground.

What happened after faded back into the fog, but he did recall one thing. As his mind was taken back, he obediently picked up the gun again. Metal remains crunched like a dead leaf under his feet. And he walked back into the war that never seemed to end…

Shadow started back into the present. He took a deep breath. The smell of smoke was gone. The air was cold and sharp. It hurt to inhale. Good. It kept him here.

He'd been walking. His legs were under his control again now. He was straining to hear something. Nothing was there. The distant screaming, destruction, and gunshots remained in the past when they belonged. Here were walls of buildings and cool silence.

Except for tromping behind him, getting louder.

Yellow pumped his legs harder and tried to ignore that one of them refused to work.

The malfunctioning left leg swung in front of the right. They connected and Yellow fell forward onto the cold, hard sidewalk. He cried out at the impact. Pain zinged through the jagged scar on his stomach.

"O-Ow ow ow…"

The pain took a moment to fade. He lay there with the concrete sidewalk in his face and sighed, his false breath fogging the air. Bad luck. The stranger was probably long gone.

Too bad. Yellow slowly pushed himself onto his knees, looked up, and squeaked.

The other black hedgehog loomed over him, crimson eyes boring into Yellow's weak ones.

Yellow froze. Breathing sped up. Felt sick. (In the back of his mind he knew that didn't make sense, he was a machine-) Had to run. Fight. _Something._

The stranger was still. Stared. Yellow couldn't keep from breathing so hard, and shaking. Was this guy an advanced model? Was he there to drag him back to the creator?

Legs didn't want to work. Nothing bad had happened yet. Yellow decided on opening his mouth to ask, when the stranger held out his hand. The android stared up at it. It wasn't an aggressive gesture. But what did he want?

The fingers twitched. "Your hand." He had a slow, cool voice.

"Oh." Felt silly now. Yellow relaxed, and stopped shaking as much. "R-Right." Good thing his arms still worked properly. The stranger had a strong, warm grip. Strange. Didn't feel much like metal.

His left leg slipped out from under him, almost making Yellow fall again. He leaned very heavily on the stranger's hand, which didn't so much as dip down. Yellow held his leg still with his free left hand, and managed to finally get both his feet properly underneath him.

This guy must be patient. And really strong. Still just staring at him. What kind of antifreeze system kept even his fingers warm like that?

"Um, thank you." Yellow let go of the stranger's hand and managed a grateful but awkward smile. He'd been overreacting; this was another android! Like him!

Oh, right, that was why he'd run after him in the first place. "H-Hey," Yellow said, holding out his open hand, "you should c-come with me. Th-there's more of us. We're all, uh, hiding, so we're s-safe."

The stranger glanced at his hand and didn't take it. Yellow couldn't tell what they were thinking. "…What do you mean 'more of us'?"

Yellow stammered. "Y-You know, um, us androids…?" The gears turned in his head. Why the confusion? Maybe he thought they'd all been destroyed too? "There are m-more of us left, I-I promise," He said earnestly. "I was surprised th-that anyone was left, too," his voice quavered, "The m-monsters and S- S- uh, the death machine, k-killed a lot of us…"

"I saw the monsters. What death machine?"

Another question, huh. He must have been hidden away during that whole ordeal. Lucky. "Th-The guy we were built after…" Yellow swallowed. "Sh- Sha- Shadow." He shivered. "I don't like s-saying his name. Feels like he'll show up and…finish me off, or-"

The stranger abruptly turned around and walked away.

"Wh-" He'd been talking! Yellow started after him, "Where are you going?"

His stride didn't slow. "I'm not an android."

Yellow stumbled to a stop. "What?"

No answer. By the time he had presence of mind to call again the stranger had rounded a bend, out of sight.

What was that? If that guy hadn't been an android too, then why did he look like Shadow? Could it be-...?

He shuddered, his metal parts clattering together.

But at the same time, his fear didn't make sense. The death machine had shot him without hesitation, watched as he bled, and walked away, his foot casually crushing Yellow's leg. The stranger hadn't attacked him, and though he was somewhat rude and looked at him strangely, he'd helped Yellow stand up even though he didn't have to. There was no way they were the same person.

He hummed, now calm. Maybe they'd meet again.

For now, though…Yellow turned and jogged down the sidewalk. He'd go home. And tell his brothers about the nice person he met.


	2. Grudge Match

Blue stared ahead, his gun for an arm raised, stiff with shock.

It was a dark, peaceful evening, snow fluttering down to rest on the ground. The white blanketed the ground and filled in patches that had been trodden on. Veins of red glowed from the ubiquitous dull green buildings. Streetlamps shone dim gold over Blue and the figures he watched. Just down the sidewalk, slow and casual, his little brother walked with a murderer.

Blue remembered, not for the first time, the worry when Pink, his equal and built at the same time, had left and not come back. He remembered venturing out himself to find him. He had found his brother's crushed and mangled body, almost in pieces. He had hid when people in black uniforms came, and hear the name of the culprit. The one they had been built to resemble. Shadow.

It had been hard to come home that day. Not because his brothers would miss Pink. But because they wouldn't, and didn't. Pink hadn't ever put effort to making himself likable, but he was still the same Pink that Blue had understood and respected. He carried his grief alone.

Either way, he'll be damned if the same happens to Yellow too.

They didn't know he was there. Blue logged that as an advantage. But it was too far to take proper aim.

The gun hummed anyway, threatening to fire. He forced his emotional processor to calm. Stop recognizing the killer as an object of hatred, lower the gun. He can't hurt Yellow. Poor little brother. Doesn't even have a gun arm to protect himself with. He must be scared to death.

It took another moment to calm down.

Now they were talking. The murderer turned to say something, still walking. Yellow threw up his hands in- hysteria? frustration? The pitch of his voice was nervous and loud. Blue could almost make out the words. Denying something. A threat? Blackmail? Blue matched their pace, padding on the ground as quiet as his metal self allowed. The snow helped, though he did not think of it. He kept his focus on Yellow.

Now the killer didn't do or say anything- no, he looked aside at Yellow before turning back ahead. Dear little brother, peaceful and timid, cringed from the look.

The gun thrummed.

No no no don't get angry Yellow will get hurt- Don't. He willed it off. Stealth, he assured the angry part of himself, that's why. Can't sneak up on him with a gun humming to shoot. He sped up, gained on them, channeling the fury into stomping down the snow. The killer gestured ahead and Yellow followed him. Too slow, too slow.

His foot slipped and skidded right. Blue fell aside into snow with a softened thud. He stared ahead, stiff, not feeling the cold or the wet. The killer started to turn around.

Yellow chattered something, and the black hedgehog turned towards him instead. The young android hopped ahead and glanced back in Blue's direction. Like a child unsure if they're allowed to go out to play, asking with his eyes. Did Yellow knew that he was there? Was he trying to act as a diversion?

Taking it as true, Blue whirred with pride. Good boy, be brave and keep him distracted. He felt around for more ice, and then pushed himself back up to resume the chase.

Twenty feet. Steel flew over concrete and snow. A doubt flared up and he stamped it out.

Fifteen. Shadow stopped. He turned and saw Blue coming and grabbed Yellow's arm.

Seven. Yellow stared at him, wide-eyed, scared.

Four. Save him. The gun hummed on.

Space flashed green-white. Laser bullets tore through nothing but air. Yellow tumbled aside. Blue spun round, smoldering, gun smoking and eyes burning red, nothing there of his quarry. Where did that bastard go?

"B-Blue?"

Little brother. The other android curled up on the ground, and flinched back at Blue's glance.

Oh no. He'd gotten angry. Blue's eyes flickered back to his namesake, he cried out "Yellow!" and hurried over, kicking snow every which way. "Yellow, are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Yellow shook his head, and seemed not to see the hand Blue offered. "N-No!" he answered earnestly, too much so, "I-I'm fine-!"

He stared up at Blue wary and shocked. Blue let his hand fall.

"W-What are y-y-you. D-doing here?" His voice shook with agitation.

"You disappeared," Blue said, "Orange told me where you went, so I came after you. I was worried."

Yellow ground one foot into the snow and didn't look at him. Silence fell and stayed. Blue knelt down by his brother, slowly, to not startle him. "Come on...what's the matter?" He coaxed, trying to sound reassuring. It came out jangled and anxious.

Yellow tapped his fingers against his knees, and mumbled something Blue couldn't hear.

"What?"

The younger hunched his shoulders and 'breathed in'. "I-I didn't kn-know you l-l- _liked_ s-shooting."

Blue shifted back his gun arm. "I don't." In his right mind, he hardly ever considered firing it. For the thousandth time, Blue lamented being unable to change his kill programming. "I don't like it at all, and I wish I didn't have to. But after what happened to Pink, I- I need to if I'm going to protect us."

He glanced down where Yellow's legs blocked the silver welding scar on his stomach. His voice lowered, shook a little. "You...especially." Blue offered the hand again. "Ok?"

Yellow hesitated before nodding, taking Blue's hand. He whirred in slight alarm when Blue tugged him up. Blue pulled him the way towards home, though snow filled in his tracks. He mulled over the last thing that bothered him.

"What," Blue asked, "did he even want from you?"

"N-Nothing!"

Blue whipped his gaze around to Yellow. He'd answered too loud and too fast and after a moment he knew it and stiffened up. His pace quickened and his eyes drifted. To the buildings, the snow, streetlamps, anything else.

The murderer must have told him to keep quiet or else. Or it was too awful to repeat. Definitely not now that he's only just escaped.

"Alright, you don't have to tell me."

Yellow looked back at him, relieved.

"But listen, you need to be more careful."

"You- _I- I'm not-!"_

Yellow bit at the hot words. Blue stopped and stared at him. Yellow, angry?

The younger android looked down, breath huffy. Only after the 'breathing' slowed did he look Blue in the eye, and speak again.

"I-I'm stronger than y-you think I am, Blue. Really. I g-got taken by s-surprise. T-The f-f-first time."

He hadn't talked about the violence behind the scar on his belly. Blue whirred in encouragement.

But no. Yellow realized what he spoke of and shuddered. "A-anyway...I can fight and s-stuff if I n-need to."

Blue beeped, confused. "Didn't you need to this time?"

Wind whooshed past. Their metal quills stayed stiff. "No. I d-don't..." He glanced aside and trailed off. "C-can we? Just go home?"

"Yes, dear." Blue hummed, a gentle machine, "Follow me."

The younger's jerky gait stumbled after firm, snow-crunching steps. The snow fell and by morning it was as if no one had ever been there


	3. Voices

"AUGHHH" A broken comb lay under Green's foot. Feather recovered from his loss and snarled. "You imbecile!"

"Not my fault it was there, hipster trash!" Green shoved his nose in Feather's face.

Feather threw the first punch. Green reeled back, growling.

Blue jumped up, "Stop that!" and tried to pull Feather away. Orange watched them from the couch with a debatable level of interest.

Yellow sat at the table a room away, bored (and out of the way of their fighting for once). He found himself comparing the voices of his brothers to Shadow's. Maybe because they were prototypes or defective, none of them got Shadow's voice quite right.

Shadow had a dark, smooth voice, never halting in indecision or skipping. It had a certain quality to it that Yellow wasn't able to pin down. A growl, a whisper? A growling whisper? Something like that, which Yellow didn't have. It allowed Shadow to be harsh and sharp and frightening, soft and serious. It helped that he had the conviction and power to back it. That force of presence, if that was the right phrase, enforced everything he said. Yellow could remember every word.

Orange usually only grunted. That morning, though, he had reminded Green of the time Feather sucker-punched him. His voice was a deep, robotic monotone. It never rose or deepened or expressed anything. Phone AIs showed more emotion than the orange-striped android. On some rough level the pitch was right. Speaking to say someone was an idiot was something Shadow would probably do. But Orange didn't sound like an organic at all.

"Fuck you, Featherweight!" Working out Green's issues was easier. Too loud, too aggressive. Definitely cursed too much. His voice made every sentence out of his smirking mouth sound like it would end as an insult. Green could be reading a shopping list and he might still stop to, say, mock your stutter. Shadow never jabbed at Yellow without reason. He didn't think Shadow would blow up and hit people for fun, either.

"As if you measure up to me!" Feather was close. He had the smoothness, and the right pitch like Orange. Still off somehow. Yellow thought about it for a little bit.

"Silence, Puke-green!"

"What kind of shitty comeback is that?"

Clanking and more yelling echoed from the other room. They fought near every day without damaging each other too much. Yellow had pretty much gotten used to it by now, though he would never like it. And, again, he wasn't in their way.

Somehow with the noise Yellow worked out the difference. Feather had the opposite problem to Orange: too much emotion. Feather called it 'righteous fury' and 'melancholy' and 'passion' and other fancy words. Yellow agreed to not upset him, but couldn't help thinking he was just strong with feelings. With Shadow it was hard to guess at any given time what he could be thinking about. It made Yellow nervous at times. Feather broadcasted everything; he wasn't scary at all.

Shadow was easier to understand, though. Even when Yellow tried to follow every word, Feather sometimes made no sense.

"You will fall beneath my wings!"

"The fuck- _Gah!_ "

"Guys, guys! Quit it!"

It was nice that Blue was trying to be peaceful, but saying to stop hardly ever worked...

Huh. Even Blue could sound like Shadow. It was rare, though. He wasn't smooth or dark when he talked. His speech was warm and soft, with a light metallic tinge that wasn't grating or harsh. It usually made Yellow feel reassured.

 _"Stop it."_

Yellow flinched. The thing Blue had, a hidden weapon, was the stiff whisper-growl. Authority. "Green, no." With conviction and a gun to back it. "Feather, down."

The yelling and clanking ceased, replaced by sulky, apologetic murmuring.

"There you go, thank you. Good boys." And Blue's voice was normal again.

That was all his brothers, except for Pink, who was gone. Yellow didn't want to think about what Pink sounded like. It wasn't words and it was too scary. Cousin was frightening, but he wasn't murderous. Anymore. Nope not thinking about the dead one right now. Nope. Not doing it.

He stared ahead for a moment. Then he vigorously shook his head to stop thinking about Pink.

Blue hopped up the step to the bigger room, his good mood restored with the peace. "Hello, Yellow." He greeted, calm and smiling. "Sorry about the yelling. What have you been thinking about?"

Yellow looked down at the floor and shifted in his seat. All he could think about was how Blue didn't sound like Shadow. "U-uh...n-n-nothing. B-Blue." For once a change of subject came to him, and he felt that he could look at Blue again. "I-I th-think it is go-going to b-be. Cold, soon?"

Blue looked at him, concerned, but found nothing suitable to say and let it go. Yellow calmed himself down by chattering about the weather. His voice was a stuttering, metallic mess, speech patterns all shot to hell. It fluctuated at a high, nervous pitch, like a child struggling not to sound scared. Even his anger was often tinged with anxiety. Yellow's speech was peppered with the most beeps and screeches and other electronic sounds.

Of all the androids, he sounded like Shadow the least.


	4. Silent Listener

Sometimes he wonders if they think he's dumb. If they think he's nothing more than a standard model, something without feeling.

After all, he doesn't talk as much as them. He doesn't seem to be as involved as them. He's the observer, the listener. Calm and collected and all too robotic. A metallic face with no expression, and bright orange eyes that betray nothing, blinking lights behind a blank screen.

They all treat him differently for it, and he treats them in kind.

The blue one pities him. It's obvious. The blue one is kind, and the blue one is gentle. Despite that, Orange finds him condescending at times. He is not delicate, and he is not broken. The soft touches and the voice filled with pity annoy Orange more than anything. He is smarter than the blue one thinks he is.

The pink one treated him the way he treated everyone. By that one he was tolerated, and ignored. Orange, truthfully, had preferred it that way. Staying out of the way had meant avoiding being on the wrong end of the pink one's gun.

The pink one is gone now. He feels an emotion that he thinks is called 'relief' when he thinks about that.

The green one. The _green_ one. The way the green one presents himself is obnoxious. The green one is loud, and brash, and does not seem to have a filter. More than once, Orange has hissed " _Do you think before you speak?_ ", which always seems to catch the green one off guard.

The green one thinks he is an unfeeling machine, nothing more than circuits and programs, a punching bag that won't react.

He does not like the green one much.

The yellow one…is scared of him. He's even more obvious about his feelings than Blue. Whenever he approaches the yellow one, the other android flinches. Trying to talk to the yellow one is frustrating. That stuttering and stammering, a fractured voice module that fluctuates more with stress, always becomes worse when the yellow one attempts to talk to him.

There are some things notable about him. The yellow one, for all his fear, is braver beneath it than he lets on. Orange watches him often, takes note of all the scars, the places where the other has been welded back together. It is a minor miracle that he continues to function.

The yellow one even sneaks out, often, when he thinks no one sees. Orange makes no effort to chase after him. The other androids' business is his own. Though…it is strange, that one so skittish keeps sneaking away from the safety of the group.

And then there's the final one. The red one. The one that calls himself 'Feather'. The one that speaks with a dramatic bravado that nearly rivals the irritating, irritating green one.

Feather, however, is different. Feather is also a thinker, though in a different way. Feather is observant, perhaps too observant for his own good.

Orange notices, for example, when Feather begins to overthink. He's become able to tell when Feather is moving beyond dramatics and into genuine distress. Feather is…desperate. Fragile. Perhaps even more so than the yellow one. He's insecure, perhaps because he looks the most like the one they're based on, while simultaneously being defective and unable to fight.

"Perhaps", Orange thinks, with a touch of irony. That was the wrong word. There's no question about it; it's something Feather told him himself. Along with many other things.

Feather uses him as a personal journal, of sorts. Orange is observant, and Orange listens. So while he doesn't say much, just quietly absorbing information seems to bring some comfort to Feather. As much as he can be, Orange is glad to. It doesn't weigh him down, to know. He knows more about Feather than the other seems to know about himself, these days. He dutifully listens to every rant and rave, offering a grunt of encouragement or perhaps a gentle beep of sympathy now and then.

Feather is passionate. Feather craves attention. And attention Orange is more than able to provide him. Just being in the same room, listening to his troubles and thoughts, is all the red striped android seems to want from someone.

Out of all of them, Feather is the one that treats him like an actual being the most. Orange can appreciate that. At least a little bit.


	5. A Puzzle

Something is wrong with what Feather's just said.

The others had left earlier, chasing after the lost yellow one. Orange wasn't worried; the yellow one left sometimes when he thought he wasn't being watched, and always came back. So Orange had stayed behind.

They'd come back with a story. Apparently they had found Yellow near Shadow, ganged up on Shadow, and all came back in one piece. That alone stretched credibility to the breaking point. If it were just the obnoxious one saying something like that (again), Orange would simply disregard it. End of story, just another day.

But…Feather clung to him while telling the story. It had been hard to hear him for once; he whispered the whole thing and kept glancing behind him, like something were going to get him. Feather's still sitting next to him on their ratty couch, leaning into him. He's shaking a little.

The others don't seem too different. The annoying green one is lying in the corner moaning about pain, but he moans all the time. The blue one's talking and fussing over the damaged yellow one, as is usual.

"I just want to know if you're ok, dear-"

"I-I am, I am, really! Blue, I'm not hurt."

Hm. The yellow one. The last time something happened with Shadow, the yellow one hid in the cabinet and refused to come out. He had been terrified. Now he's protesting at the blue one trying to coddle him, barely stuttering at all.

The difference managed to trouble him. How bothersome.

He remembered Feather's delivery more than what he was actually saying. Orange tapped him on the shoulder. Feather jumped in his seat and turned his head.

"Huh- What, what is it?"

Orange's voice was flat and deep. "How aren't you dead?"

It takes a moment for him to respond.

"I- I don't know, and don't really care. It was terrifying, he could have killed us all if he'd wanted to." He said all this in a low, shaky voice. "Green got in his face to shoot him, and- well, you know I don't really like Green, but when he twisted his arm, the scream was-…"

Feather shivered.

"He grabbed Yellow and demanded we back off. I thought- It seemed like he and Yellow said something to each other, but I- I obviously couldn't hear what it was. Then- the other two stopped attacking, and he disappeared. Vanished into thin air. I saw it, I'm not crazy, it's what happened. I know you don't think I'm crazy, but… Well, you know. And…that's all. Blue picked up Yellow and we went home."

Feather leaned against him again. "It was horrible to watch…"

Orange nodded, and didn't push him away or ask anything else. Feather's frightened and not thinking clearly. He'll try to piece this together by himself.

He can write off Shadow ignoring Feather as a potential threat. Feather has no weapon, and freezes up when scared. Obvious.

The choice of hostage… The obnoxious green one wouldn't have minded shooting Feather by "accident". To be entirely honest, it would be the same with their positions reversed. Trying to take the blue one hostage?

Orange remembered him, red-eyed with anger, choking the obnoxious one when he insulted the stuttering one a few times too many. He remembered the two oldest, gentle blue and murderous pink, matching each other shot for shot in the pit. He remembered the gentle one _winning._

Taking him hostage.

No, that probably wouldn't go well.

Even without his combat prowess, the blue one would probably demand the others take the shot even with him in the way. He pretended not to, but he hated Shadow, and Pink's death still hurt him. A hostage could have gone wrong in several ways.

Then again, the stutterer is unarmed, as Feather is. He may have simply been too close to Shadow, and the others hadn't gotten him away in time. It may have gone another way, but that version is possible.

Another discrepancy. Arm-twisting shouldn't work on robots. On ones without nerve-endings, it didn't. Feather, yellow one, and annoying one all did, but the latter didn't look like it. Somehow Shadow knew that the annoying one would feel it. How could he have possibly-

Wait. Yellow had supposedly been taken hostage, but he was not acting afraid. He snuck out sometimes. He had been found today near Shadow, but unhurt.

He's told Shadow about them.

This might be a problem.


	6. Black

A shadow android, one of six, stared up at the ceiling and wondered how long he had to live. His fingers moved once, large stolen rings on his fingers clacking together. The rest of him stayed very still.

Except Orange, the others knew nothing. Blue had been concerned, of course, he always was, but he soon attributed Feather's silence to the cold. Composing more poetry about the snow outside, Blue laughed. Waiting to show off until he was finished.

Feather tried to, with the expectation there, but the words in his head kept falling from white fluffy snow back down to death. He kept thinking that he was going to join Pink wherever dead androids went. Didn't seem fair; he hadn't done what Pink had and attacked the destroyer of androids, who he couldn't possibly have won against, but he was going to die too. These thoughts seemed to affect his expression; he had caught Orange more than once staring at him while he was in that dark mood.

Orange would have noticed even if Feather hadn't confided in him. He was one of the silver prototypes, and therefore had no means of making facial expressions, but he didn't seem to need them anyway. He sat silent and calm and watched and listened, always. Orange even listened to Feather ramble on his thoughts about pretty much everything. Orange understood. He was not an emotional sort, though. He would be alright in Feather's absence, after awhile.

Yellow acted the same around him. Of course and thank goodness the little fool didn't notice anything amiss.

He should say something nice to him. Before going. Orange, too, definitely. And Blue. For being there and listening when he needed them.

But not Green (or Pink, since he was dead). Green would dance on his grave.

He wouldn't have a grave. He was a robot. Where did he even get that expression?

Didn't matter. Drained him to think too hard. He was only at 18% power despite charging all day. Every time he got close to forgetting, an internal diagnostic reminded him. 'Battery Malfunction', it hijacked his thoughts to say. 'Seek Repair.'

Where? He always wondered in response. He never received an answer.

Next to him on the couch, Orange was watching him. He met Feather's eye, and slowly shook his head.

Feather laughed, a broken, quiet sound. Can't fool him. Maybe Orange is smarter than he is.

"I...didn't used to like you at all," Feather began, his voice slow and contemplative. "Because you wouldn't respond to anything I said...the way I wanted you to. It insulted me."

Orange's eyes flickered.

"But- Orange, I realized I could say whatever I wanted to you, and you wouldn't care. It was liberating. You didn't care even if it was stupid or- or pointless, or-"

His throat made a strangled sound, and he stared down at the floor. Stupid and pointless. "It- It didn't ma-atter." His voice warped and then he couldn't speak anymore. Somebody grasped his shoulder and the choked noises got worse.

He didn't want to die. Dying meant lost, forgotten, a pile of rusting scrap in a junkyard waiting to be crushed. Nobody caring that he had even existed.

Feather wailed. He didn't want to die! Why him? Why not him? Why at all?

"I/I/- I'm-"

The hand on his shoulder shook him. Get ahold of yourself. The android shivered and tried to suppress everything. The outburst had cost him. Only 11% battery left.

He could shut off his emotional processor. To gain time. It was already running low.

No. No, if he had to die, it was going to be as himself.

"G-guys?"

Yellow wavered in the doorway, unsure of whether to enter. He was the only other lifelike one, with the same black fake fur as Feather, though a mistake on the assembly line had given him the wrong color streaks and eyes. Feather sort of envied him for it; it meant he was unique.

Yellow glanced between the two androids on the couch, and settled on Feather. "Feather w-was that you. C-crying?"

He opened his mouth to agree, and then closed it again.

Ordinarily he'd want to be comforted, by anyone, anyone at all. All the times he'd done that before seemed petty, now. But he was tired, and his emotions were settling to something like acceptance. A calm darkness, he thought. Black, but serene.

The only thing left was to set things in order. Keep the others from mourning too much over his broken body. With what they thought of him, it wouldn't be too difficult.

"U-um, Feather?" Yellow said again, louder, stepping into the room. He sounded scared.

Feather made an effort to smile. "Hello, Yellow."

"...H-Hi?" He said tentatively. "You s-sound weird."

Feather nodded and didn't contest it.

Silence settled and waited for him to start. Yellow fidgeted.

"I've always thought you were stronger than you look."

The yellow-striped android started. "M-me?"

"Yes, you." He inclined his head. "You've been shot and kicked around, and- we haven't been so kind to you either...I know I haven't, sometimes. I'm sorry. But you're still functioning. You're still full of hope. I..." Feather shook his head. "I don't think I could do that."

Yellow stared at him and opened and shut his mouth a few times. "W-what are you. T-talking about?" His stutter grew more agitated. "A-A-Are you o-ok?"

He had to think about how to answer that. No, he wasn't. But it worried Yellow more than it should.

10% power.

Feather was unable to muster a smile this time. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Something squeezed his shoulder and beeped sharply. Oh. Forgot Orange was there.

"I-I'm-" Yellow stumbled back, jerking his head backwards and forwards to aim for the opening to the kitchen while still talking to Feather. "Gonna g-get Blue, ok?" He tripped over the stair, scrambled up, and ran off, calling for their oldest.

That didn't go how it should have at all. Sure, he was touched that Yellow seemed to like him. But all he had ever given the others were words. What value was he seeing in him that Feather couldn't?

Well. Yellow was always the odd one. The others would react better.

Steel clattered in the other room. Yellow yelled frantic apologies over someone else's loud swearing.

Ah. Green. He'd be ok with this, surely.

Green stomped in, even the stair bearing his wrath. Another with the silver color, though dented and scratched from misadventures. His bright green streaks had chips in the paint. One of his arms was a grenade launcher, but he'd long since run out of ammo. Green-on-black eyes found their old target.

"Hey!" If he had a mouth to grin with, he would be. Big and toothy, like a shark. "You!"

Feather, who did have a mouth, smiled at him serenely. "Yes?"

He strode in on the living room like he owned the place. "Broken any mirrors with your ugly face lately?"

Orange faintly growled. Feather himself felt nothing. He usually would. How odd. "No." It was cool and remarkably calm. But maybe he was just too distracted to react any further.

The shark sputtered, the routine broken, and cocked his head.

"Green," Feather said, "I don't have much time-"

"Gah, for /what/?" Green rolled his eyes and made some dismissive-sounding beeps. "To stand in front of a mirror long enough to break it?"

Well. If words were his last gift, he'd be sparing with Green. No pretty little speech. He wouldn't listen anyways.

"No. I'm dying."

The instant he admitted it he was unsettled again.

The other android froze for a second, but then growled.

"You dramatic asshole!" Green stomped. "You're not fucking dying if you're too low on power for one fucking day!"

9%.

"You don't underst _and-!"_ Feather's voice warped again. Green leaned forward on the reaction. Blood on the water. Bleeding his power to death.

Feather choked it back. Have to be calm.

8%.

Ok. Ok. That's been happening. He has to stay calm or it does that faster. Orange's grip helped keep him from shaking.

"It's been...It's been weeks. Battery's dying." Looking down and speaking of it in the third person helped a little. His voice was still shaky. "And I...recharging doesn't work. Anymore. I'll be dead- soon."

Feather managed a broken smile and looked up. "S-Sorry. You'll have to...fight someone else."

Green stepped back. "You're d-...?" He shook his head in disbelief. "You're just- You're just fucking with me." He tried to laugh, but his electronic voice wavered and silenced. "You're not funny."

Why isn't this going well either? "Green, why-?"

"D-don't know h-he j-just, s-s-sounded weird-"

Feather turned to the noise approaching from the other room. Oh no.

Blue appeared, supporting a shaking, babbling Yellow through the doorway. Silver with calm light blue streaks, a gun for an arm that he never used. The older droid patted the younger on the head and looked about for the trouble.

Green spun around. "Feather says he's dying."

Blue started, nearly dropping a whimpering Yellow. "What?"

"Tell /him/," He threw his hand back at Feather, who flinched, "that he's not fucking dying!"

Blue and Yellow stared past Green at Feather.

He'd forgotten Yellow could cry. And Blue- he didn't have a very expressive face, but the helpless little shakes of his head weren't easy to watch.

"Earth to Blue, dammit!" Green shouted, a hysterical edge to his voice, "Tell this asshole he's not allowed to die!"

Yellow hid his face against Blue and made choked whimpering noises. Blue held him and stared ahead, still shaking his head.

7%.

Feather struggled against the couch to sit up and not look so pathetic. His body jerked up and no more.

Green sputtered denials into silence. He slid past a sobbing Yellow to the other room, quietly.

"Feather," Blue started. His eyes struggled to stay lit. "Feather, I'm sorry, I-" He wrapped his arms further around Yellow. "I'm so sorry...I should have known something was wrong, and-" His gentle mechanical voice crushed itself with guilt. "And done...done /something-/"

Why is this happening? "Blue," His own voice was weak and strained, "I-it's alright, please don't-"

Loud banging sounded from the other side of the hideout. Yellow flinched. An anguished roar rang out, and faded into silence.

They liked him. They actually liked him. "Ha..." He'd finally, finally gotten the complete, loving attention he'd always wanted...

He had to do something to deserve it. Anything. Not just anything. Something grand. Dying quietly was poor gratitude.

6%. It hurt to think. What could he do?

Something was wrong with his senses. Static overtook his sight. Somebody - Blue? He couldn't tell - somebody spoke, far away, and Yellow's whimpers faded in and out. Even the bite of Orange's hand was going away.

Oh. He knew now. If he has to die, he'll try to succeed where Pink failed.

The dying android's body seized up, and fell stiff and dark on the old couch.

Hibernation cease.

7%.

He inched open one eye, peering past black plastic eyelashes. The room was empty. Even Orange at his shoulder was gone. If he hadn't planned it, he'd be insulted they left so soon.

...Was it 'soon'? How long has it been?

Don't think about it. Don't waste energy.

Feather pushed himself off the couch to his feet. It felt like lifting a chunk of lead. If only he, his consciousness, could escape the metal shell and float away... Could a machine do that?

No. He's the shell. A broken shell powered by what anyone could get from a damn wall socket.

6%.

Stop it. Stop distracting yourself.

Now to walk.

Step by step, slow and laborious, Feather pushed his feet and body forward. The door was cracked open to the outside. He staggered through, the door banging against his numb quills without notice.

White and cold assaulted Feather, but for once their efforts were lost on him. Steel steps crunched through the winding alley's carpet of snow. Flakes fluttered down and settled on his shambling form, the scarlet streaks on his head smothered with snow. The turning of his head every once in awhile to look around was too slow to dislodge it. The lights of the tall buildings on either side were dim and foggy.

His energy trickled away, and he marched. Outside got whiter and whiter.

Feather called out a name. The speaker made a warped, slow sound barely resembling the word. He tried again. The same result.

One of his feet hit something under the snow, and Feather fell like a brick. The snow beneath him was crushed, a cold cushion between him and the concrete ground. He ordered his body to wipe the snow from his eyes, to stand, to walk, to keep looking.

His arm twitched, and that was it. The sky did not notice, and dutifully rained more white flakes to cover him.

Even in death he was worthless. He wanted to cry, but his broken shell of a body didn't have the energy to even whimper. His brothers wouldn't be able to find him. He would end up thrown away by a stranger like so much garbage.

What would he even have done if he had found Shadow? He'd had a plan. Fight him? How?

It hurt to remember. He could not think.

His eyes went black, and his death was hidden away under perfect white snow.


	7. White

There was nothing. Total whiteness, everywhere he looked. He blinked accordingly, but it wasn't overloading his eyes at all. The floor, if what he lay on was a floor, was solid, flat nothing. Touch just didn't register, somehow. It was not cold or warm or rough- it wasn't anything. Solid air. No matter how hard he pressed, though, something was there. He tapped one of his many mismatched finger rings against it and it made no sound.

Hadn't he died?

Feather looked down his body and stopped.

He had no damage now. None. His mechanical insides purred in perfect time. Every strand of false fur was there, laying flat in the direction he liked it. His gloves were spotless, and almost as white as the floor. The red fabric tabs, too, were blazing scarlet, free of age and stains. He slowly rotated the ring on his wrist, watching the light dance on the golden shine.

He squealed like a child and threw his arms around himself. He was beautiful.

"You sure are."

Feather scrambled to his feet.

A few feet away, where he was certain no one had been a moment ago, stood...himself. Someone who looked exactly like him, but with longer lashes and only two rings on their fingers. His first thought was Shadow, but the voice he'd heard was feminine.

Whoever it was, they folded their arms behind their back and smiled at him.

"Hello! You died." The greeting was chirpy, but slipped down an octave for the rest. "Sorry. I have good news, though!" Another spike in pitch. "If you start to feel weird, it means yer goin' back."

Feather stared at them and gaped, trying to process which question to ask first. "I know- Who are- I mean, how did-...I-?" He sputtered into silence, embarrassed by his inability to speak for once.

"I'm...God." They (She? Feather wasn't sure) said, and smiled again in a forced, polite sort of way. "I guess. It's, uh, hard to explain where this is." They paused, looking thoughtful. "I suppose right now it's an afterlife...soul storage thing? Something like that."

Their voice slid just about everywhere. God sounded more like an awkward teenager with a southern accent than...whatever a god sounded like. But then couldn't a god sound like whatever they wanted?

Oh, don't get distracted with that. How is he standing before a god at all?

"But that can't be. If this is an afterlife, then how could I possibly be here?" He had a hard time sounding anything but confused. "I'm a machine, everyone knows we don't..." Feather tapped his chest. He was much too aware now of the engine he had for a heart. "I...don't have a soul." He finished, quietly.

They poorly restrained an amused smile. "Well, you're here," They drawled, drawing their arms out from behind their back to cross them in front of their body, "Because I want you to be. And, uh," They glanced aside. Something black their size flickered where they looked. "To give my son time to put in the chaos drive. He doesn't want to kill y'all now since you're alive and stuff."

"That didn't answer...my..." Dizziness hit him and his indignant voice trailed off. Feather staggered, his vision swimming in static, and the white void turned black.

He started awake. For a moment his eyes were open but saw nothing, his insides thumping and whirring to get up to speed and process what was around him.

He was flat on his back. There was a sky again, grey and cloudy, framed by towering green and grey buildings. If he didn't know he'd been dead, he might have guessed that he'd laid down and fallen asleep there.

Fallen asleep. Shut down. Whatever it was. Could the last drops of power he'd had left make his cognitive circuits malfunction? Make him see and hear things that weren't there? Probably. It made more sense than what he recalled happening.

...Was he still hallucinating? Feather rubbed his hands sideways along the ground. Concrete. Snow. Rough and cold. Definitely feeling things. But maybe in a different dream he could.

If he is still dreaming, then-!

He shot up, grinning, and held up his gloved hands.

The smile faded. They weren't bright anymore. His insides ticked away, keeping him alive, but out of tune. His body was as dented and scuffed up and ugly as before.

Feather slumped, letting out a disappointed whine. If he is still seeing things, then even his imagination is a disappointment.

It did map out somewhere he knew, though. Just ahead on the right of the alley was a crumbled stone building, half demolished. At its side, the blue dumpster with the faded green logo on its side.

If all this was accurate, all he had to do was push it aside.

Feather stood up, waiting for the scenery to collapse or spin or something. The grey alley did nothing but blow a stiff, chilly wind at him. He shivered and took a step forward. Nothing happened.

So it was safe to move. Good, he could get inside and warm up. Why did he have to dream it being so cold?

He jogged over and shoved the dumpster. Its rusty wheels squealed in protest and begrudgingly rolled aside.

There was home. Bricks taken out of the wall in a rough circle almost as tall as he was, and rotting wood paneling within. It looked right. Maybe this is real after all?

But that couldn't be. He's dead. And inside is...far too quiet.

His engine heart thumped, loud and agitated. No. No no no his brothers have to be here, he _needs_ them-!

Feather ran in, his metal quills banging against the brick.

Three silver gun arms pointed at him. Feather froze in the middle of the room. Orange behind his back, Green to the right, behind the ratty old couch like a sniper, and Blue, red-eyed, in the left corner. Green had no ammo left but Orange did and Blue's gun shot blasts of light and pain that needed no reloading. Behind Blue peeked out Yellow, surprised and scared.

His limbs felt like lead. He's just dreaming! Yeah. He's dreaming. He's dreaming, it's ok. If they shoot him he'll wake up.

He closed his eyes and waited.

"Wait." Blue. Confused, but on guard. "Down, everyone." He paused, and said, more severely, " _Down,_ Green."

"I wanna shoot him anyway!" Green whined, his voice farther away than Blue's. "It's not like it's someone we know."

"H-he." He heard Yellow stammer quietly, "He d-did it?"

This dream is pretty realistic. Perhaps he should give his imagination some credit.

Something grabbed his arm. Feather yelped and spun around.

Tangerine LED eyes. Just Orange. Not aiming anything at him now, thank goodness.

"O-oh." Feather gasped and laughed nervously. "Orange. Don't do that."

Orange grabbed Feather's arm and stared at the numerous rings on his hand. He turned aside to the others and nodded.

Blue lowered his gun, his eyes flickering back to his namesake color. Back to himself, outside the kill programming. "Feather?" His voice lilted up in surprise. "How- Is that you?"

Feather nodded dumbly. Orange let go of him to no notice. Would they be this surprised in reality?

Green made a scornful noise, but lowered his grenade launcher a little. Yellow got out from behind Blue, and his face lit up.

"F-Feather! I knew Sha-" He looked panicked for a moment, and switched his words. "Uh- You!" He threw up his arms. "Y-You're alive!"

"I..." Feather looked around the room at his smiling brothers, teetering at the edge. Yellow lowered his arms and looked embarrassed.

This...feels real.

It's not a dream. They love him.

Feather grinned, his entire body vibrating, and broke into peals of happy laughter. "Yes!" He squeezed Yellow as hard and close as he could. "Yes, I am! I'm alive! I'm back! Yellow! I missed youuuuu!"

"I-I'm glad!" He squeaked, "O-Ow!"

"Sorry!" Feather gave him a pat, let go, and bounced into Blue's open arms. "Blue!"

Blue embraced him, the gun arm over Feather like a shield. "Feather, sweetie!" His voice trembled with emotion. If he could cry, he'd be blubbering. "I am so sorry, dear, we didn't know it was you! I can't believe you're alive."

"Blue! I missed you too." Feather said, nuzzling against Blue's shoulder. "I'm here to stay, I promise."

"I'm so happy you're home-"

"There you are, you piece of shit!"

Feather backed out from Blue's hug into Green grinning, and was whacked in the face for his trouble.

He paused, stunned for a second, but then laughed over Blue's scolding. "Same to you, asshole!" Feather yelled, almost with the same shark-tooth smile, and gleefully slapped him.

Green fell back onto the couch, rubbing his steel cheek, both swearing and laughing.

Orange was next. He allowed Feather's near-tackle, and though he didn't hug back he hummed. The vibration resonated like a cat's purr.

Wow.

The black and red android paused. He's so...happy. Maybe. Maybe too happy.

"You are real," He whispered, hugging Orange a little tighter, "Right?"

Pain bit his back. "Ow!" Feather jumped away. Orange's fingers were set in a claw in midair.

He opened his mouth and jabbed a finger at Orange, offended.

Then Feather got it and lowered his hand. "...Ok, ok," He said, simmering down, "I understand. You're all here."

Orange nodded, purring.

Yellow stepped in. "A-Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah!" Feather grinned again, "C'mere, you!"

Yellow again and everybody over, hugs and laughter for all. Somebody outside watching smiled, satisfied, and pushed the dumpster back over their happy ending.


End file.
